Two Poems by Rita Stein


Seasonal Affect

If I walk on the sunny side
       Now that I know I’m doing it
                  Then I pump my arms
And try to laugh off the cold edge of imitation
I don’t regret the season of not going
Slumping on the subway
                                       Sexy moves like that
It didn’t mean that much
                                        To sit me in that chair
And make me listen to/in              Hardwood and crunchy
To listen to your thoughts
            Accumulated on little paper
                                       I regret the season of not going
       The pity of truth     the sheen of all liars     Time     wasted     The pure faith
            Of young love for old things
I do regret that metaphor      is      phony      Symbolism is/not        untrue
Manifestos and statements from a butchier life
                     Love as a seasonal affect
            Now that I know
I’m doing         it
I try to laugh

Dr. Jane

Shallow breaths.  Present.  Static.
Technicolor mammograms.
I am not the one      to run in
And save the day.
It’s not safe to have company at the breakfast table.
No one ever wows the clown.
A surreal animation knocks on the door.
The beauty of the apple
                                        lies in its refracted sense of imagery.
You could go blue or funhouse.
I don’t know that there is
             any way around this.
A pot of coffee    and all the cream it takes to shut you up.
No one ever wows the clown.
Not safe to try.
328177_3263228021103_431227892_oRita Stein is a librarian and works in Brooklyn. A native of Baltimore, she is comfortable in stone, brick and confusion. She has had poems published in Blue Collar Review, The Dariens, Loch Raven Review and Esque Issue 3.

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